Beneath Canyon Walls

Our last big expedition in Mexico was a trek to the cave paintings at La Trinidad. We rose early from the bed and breakfast in San Ignacio where we spent the first post-whale camp night, leaving even before the chance for the breakfast side of bed-and-breakfast, and drove through the rising dawn and the purple haze of early morning to get to Mulege by 9 a.m. We had reservations with a licensed guide, leaving from La Serenidad Hotel on the outskirts of Mulege.

Mexican highways are particularly empty.

When we arrived, we had some time before the tour left. We decided to book a room at the hotel, which was a bit of a gringo-fest, but was comfortable enough. It was right next to a dirt airstrip. Apparently, a popular activity for bush pilots is to fly down to Baja and land at airstrips like the one in Mulege. Several of fellow tourists on the cave painting trip were avid pilots, and spent the whole drive out through the desert, through the gullies and washes and past the cacti discussing different obscure minutiae of flying and building their own airplanes.

This was the closest I have ever come to feeling like I was in a western movie, and that says something, considering I grew up in Hamilton, Montana.




The trip was fascinating, as the guide stopped the van a couple of times to show us different examples of cacti and plants, things that had different purposes for native tribes, and that would be quite useful for survival, assuming I had any chance of remembering the details of what did what. I do know that some of those plants could be helpful. Or not helpful. So that's something.

The point is, the desert is incredibly, unexpectedly diverse. Cacti alone come in multiple varieties.





A winding, up-and-down walk along a stony trail brought us to a canyon of steep, narrow rusty-red walls, where a small dam created a deep, still pool of water. To get to the cave paintings, we had to traverse the water. You could either swim or get hauled around the bend in the canyon by a rope-pulley system. The pool wasn't exactly requiring a marathon swim. Nevertheless, I took the boat to keep the backpacks and camera dry. I may be a hardened traveler--or maybe not--but I like my comfort.






I like what the Mexican government does to protect these cave paintings. To travel to see them, you must go with a licensed guide, who ensures no one gets to close. And if you want to take photos, you pay a fee upfront for a permit. Theoretically, someone could still sneak a picture when they get there, but that would lead to a nasty conflict with the guide--and do you really want to risk being abandoned in the middle of the desert?--and most of the people who would sign up for such a tour are probably going to be enlightened enough to want to be respectful.

These are old, incredibly old. It's hard to really get a sense of the history behind this. The guide's speech was okay, but a little disjointed, as his English was not perfect, and he had to look to Marina and another girl occasionally for help with translations. But I did get the sense that these were special, and Marina was very excited about them--especially when she found a rare book about them at a used bookstore in Loreto the next day (I bought a Laurie King novel at the store, for the record.)





The way back out was a quick sojourn. Lunch was served, of ham sandwiches--minus the ham for me--oranges, and water, all in the shade back at the headquarters of the ranch where the caves are located. This offered the final two vistas.




Here, now, at the end of the trip, the desert no longer looked so barren. It now looked rich and full of variety. You just have to know what you are seeing. The rest of the trip was uneventful; we stayed in Mulege on Friday night, left early and drove in to Loreto, where we walked around a little more and had a tasty Italian lunch at a small restaurant with good beer, before driving to the airport for an easy flight home. All in all, it was everything I could have hoped for in the trip.

Birding Among The Whales

In case you thought all there was to do in Laguna San Ignacio was whale-frolicking, let me assure you that you are quite wrong. For part of our morning boat trip on Wednesday, we crossed the lagoon and entered an area of mangroves. This was fascinating to me, not only because it was so beautiful, but also because a lot of the environmental projects Marina has worked on in Mexico have involved protecting mangroves from development.

Entering the channel of the mangroves is to leave the choppy, dramatic water of the open lagoon, and to feel everything slow down and shift.

Water flows around the roots of the mangroves, creating caves for fish, and dramatic views, as well as excellent habitat for birds. We saw birds drying their wings in the sun, another bird balancing on a thin branch emerging from the water while he waited for prey, and schools of young fish of various sizes.

We even saw a rare Mangrove Warbler, spotted by Marina by a quick flash of color.

It was a nice moment of reflection on the myriad ecosystems to be found, and it underscores why developers cannot be allowed to do whatever they want. The cost must be considered, and not just in terms of a loss of a vibrant place of life. Mangroves also serve to prevent erosion, among other benefits.

Here are some of my favorite photos from the mangrove expedition:

Through The Desert, Finding Whales

Tuesday morning, March 8th, 2011. We drove out of the town of San Ignacio, heading for the San Ignacio Lagoon, on the shores of which we would stay the next two days at a Baja Adventures camp.

In other words, we were going to see whales.

To set the stage, a brief anecdote from my childhood: when I was six or seven, I stood on a bluff at Fort Ross, on the Sonoma Coast, and saw a pod of migrating whales, far out to sea. That memory has lingered with me and was a driving factor in my decision to move west from Montana. But since I moved to California, I had yet to see a whale. I did see a dolphin or two in Santa Cruz, and several otters.

To reach the camp, we drove through the Mexican desert. When I say drove, I mean we rattled and shook and slid over a rough, washboard track, full of stones and bounces, flanked by cacti and miles of empty land. We saw one Suburban going the other direction, way too fast for conditions; a white truck inching along ahead of us and then behind us as we passed, and, naturally in the middle of nowhere, a big Coca-Cola delivery truck.



We played a lot of U2 as we drove, which I thought was quite apt.

The camp was spare, but comfortable. It was a long array of wooden box-like huts spread along the shoreline. Our cabin included a full-size bed; Marina and I were both pleased that neither of us fell out of bed during the night while sleeping; it would not have been hard to do. Here's a picture of our cabin; yes, ours was the only one with the painting of a whale on the side:




A small back porch offered a commanding view of the lagoon; with binoculars, it was quite possible to see whales spouting here, there, and almost everywhere. Seriously. Everywhere. When we were out in the boats, at first, we were constantly craning our heads everyone mentioned a spout of a surfacing whale. After a few hours, though, we took it as a matter of course to have five spouts surrounding us at distance, like points on a compass.

Not that we ever became jaded.

We went on a total of four two-hour whale watching trips over the course of our stay from Tuesday to Thursday. Here we are in our adventure garb:



Imagine seeing a leviathan slowly rising through the water towards you, becoming more and more clear and tangible, a massive, thirty to forty foot long creature you've only seen at a distance or in movies. A creature you love, but that looks like it could tip your boat over like a Democrat rolling over in Congress. For instance, one mother whale gave our boat a nudge with her fluke; a tremendous bang shuddered the entire boat. To tell the story of our whale-meetings, a panoply of photos:






We saw whales breaching in the distance, silhouetted against the sun. We saw them slide straight up out of the water, hanging there vertically, nose pointed towards the sky, what used to be called "spyhopping" but is now called "head-upping", technically the more accurate term, because in most cases, their eyes aren't actually coming out of the water, which would make it hard for them to do much spying. At one point, a whale did this about two feet away from the side of the boat when we were all looking the other way, so silently that no one heard a sound. We were all a bit startled, as you might imagine. We also saw a calf roll playfully across his mother's back like a baby human will crawl all over its parents.

And then there was the moment when the whales came right up to the boat, literally scratching their back on the hull and checking us out.

There I was, watching all four other passengers--including Marina--rush to one side of the small boat to try to touch the whales as they circled us and passed under the boat, causing the boat to lurch noticeably to one side. Naturally, I thought I should slide over to the other side as a counterweight. And then I had the urge to reach out and grab Marina, but then that would look possessive. It was a dilemma, because I would hate myself if I didn't touch a whale too.

Finally, Marina urged and coaxed me over to the side of the boat, where a young whale was, wow, right there, just two feet away, and I couldn't quite reach, it was just out of reach below the surface of the lagoon, an inch or two of water between my fingers and a grey whale, and then Marina told me to lean forward a little more, and then I was touching the whale, for the briefest of moments before it was gone again, but enough to feel the cold, soft rubbery feel of the whale. And I managed not to poke it in the eye or the blowhole, so that was a plus, because apparently they don't react well when that happens.

I've never felt a rush like it. And in the evening on Wednesday, picture us bouncing over the waves at sunset, whales breaching to the left, a pair of bottlenose dolphins gracefully cutting through the waves to the right. It added a sublime element to an already amazing trip.

iPhoning It In: Reasons To Buy An iPhone

Now that I've been co-opted by the iPhone Army, I've decided to post a list of reasons why this decision was the best decision I've ever made.*

1) I now know what a receiving blanket is.

We were in Babies "R" Us--utilizing a gift registry, not creating one--and we wondered, "What the hell is a receiving blanket and why do you need it?"

The thought I spoke aloud was, "Maybe it's a ceremonial blanket for wrapping around your baby when people come to visit." By people, I was envisioning the Queen of England.

The thought I didn't speak aloud was: "Maybe it's what the doctor uses to catch the baby. But then why would you need a three-pack?" The triplet-scenario didn't occur to me at the time, although now I picture a doctor catching one baby after another and beginning a juggling act.

It turns out, neither was true, and thanks to my new iPhone, that turning out happened very quickly. Instant gratification!

2) The mystery of Noboru Watanabe was solved.

Reading a story in a collection of Haruki Murakami short stories, I had an eerie feeling that I had heard the name Noboru Watanabe before, possibly even in the same book.

I could have leafed back through the earlier stories to confirm, but that would be so much work. All I had to do was Google the name. "Ah ha! That was the name of the cat in the first story."

The world is a much better place for the speed with which this puzzle was solved.

3) Convenience allows self-reference, on the go!

One could compose a blog about buying an iPhone, on the iPhone, while riding the bus--AND post it, all at the same time. That would also add a dash of spicy adventure to one's life, defying all the would-be pickpockets.

I did not, of course. I might be high-tech, but I'm not reckless.

4) Technology is taking over the language anyway.

Look at pronouns. Most are now subservient to technology: iPhone, the Wii (and the Mii avatars), YouTube. Do you really think you are too good for the company of pronouns?





*in terms of decisions affecting the usefulness of my cell phone